


The Moon

by PikachuSneeze



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-15
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-13 05:09:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 7,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28772865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PikachuSneeze/pseuds/PikachuSneeze
Summary: Y/N needs to join a new club following an injury that kicked her out of the soccer club. The volleyball team was looking for a new manager.
Relationships: Miya Osamu/Reader
Comments: 3
Kudos: 97





	1. Application

Chapter One: Application

“Why do you want to manage for us?” Kita asked the girl in front of him. You started chewing on the inside of your cheek, thinking of the best way to answer this question.  


“I used to manage the soccer club.” Managing, sure, that’s what you were doing.  


“Why did you quit?” Oops, you kind of forgot about follow-up questions.  


“...I wanted to play.” This came out a little mumbled. “It made me...resentful.” Warm-ups were slowly being abandoned as eyes turned towards you.  


“Why couldn’t you-” Kita was cut off by Atsumu.  


“Hey, you’re the girl that had a black eye last year!” You gave him a tight-lipped nod, not really pleased that he remembered that, as he approached the two of you.  


"Team, this is Y/N. She wants to become our manager."  
Recognition flashes over Suna’s face too.  


“Didn’t you also break your leg?” All eyes were on you now, causing your eyes to cast down and watch your fingers pick underneath your nails.  


“No,” looking up, you could tell he was about to ask another question. “I dislocated my hip.” Anxiety was beginning to bubble in your chest, doubt forming in your mind. Maybe this wasn’t the best idea, you heard a soft voice in your head say, but when you looked back towards Kita, a strange calmness stilled the shaking of your hands. “I can’t play soccer anymore. I did enjoy managing for them, but I wanted to be on the pitch, not the sidelines.” You let out a small laugh, “I don’t have to worry about that with volleyball.” Kita seemed accepting of your explanation and welcomed you to stay as sort of a trial run of being their manager. Your first thought was to ask to come back tomorrow because you had not brought a change of clothes with you — you had not expected to stay — but agreement left your mouth before you could process your thought.

It was difficult to follow the ball. Sometimes it would move slow enough that you could keep track of the plays, but other times, it seemed like it would teleport from one side of the court to the other. A small fear sprouted in the back of your mind: if the ball is moving so fast you can’t see it, what would happen if it was coming towards you? Would you be able to see it and avoid getting hit?  


You buried the fear in what you thought was logic and reason: this was one of the best teams in the country. There was no way their aim would be so off that it’d come barrelling towards you on the side of the court. Right? It’d be different if you were on the end line, but you’re way off to the side. You’d be fine. 

It was surprisingly easy to lose track of time during the practice. The standing verticals were impressive, but the running verticals were damn near mystifying. How does it feel to fly?  


“What are your thoughts?” Kita asked as he approached you.  


“I’m going to be honest, I don’t know a whole lot about volleyball and I’m not sure what is expected of me as a manager, but,” your eyes stayed glued on the court, bouncing between following the ball and trying to figure out who was going to make the next move, “I think…” you glanced at Kita when there was a break in the play, “I’d like to try.” The two of you shared a small smile before returning to look back at the court.  


“STRAY!” The shout barely reached your ears when you felt a sting in your hands. It took a moment for you to realize that your earlier fear had been realized, but your reaction was not quite what you were expecting. There were a lot of voices calling out around you, but you couldn’t process what was being said, your attention focused on the ball in your hands. You moved to holding the ball with one hand, glancing at the other, the sting leaving nothing more than red skin and soft tingles  


“How did you hit it so hard?” The silence made you look up, taking in the assortment of emotions that play out on the boys’ faces. The urge to break the silence was becoming too strong to overcome. “I thought y’all were a nationally ranked team,” you started, rolling the ball between your hands. “Shouldn’t your aim be better?” A smirk tugged at your lips when you tossed the ball towards the grey-haired twin.  


“Did...did that...not hurt?” Atsumu asked you, confusion and concern mixed on his features. He was pretty used to getting hit and it still stung sometimes, but you didn’t play volleyball. You didn’t have the same experience and tolerance he had.  


You offered a shrug. “You didn’t answer my question. How did you hit it so hard?”  


“Are you okay?” Kita asked, looking between your face and your hands. This wasn’t something they were going to just ignore happened.  


“I’m fine,” you answered with a chuckle. You glanced at Atsumu, standing in front of you. “The black eye? I got kicked in the face the first ten minutes of the game and then continued to play.” This did not seem to ease their worry. “Unless I am bleeding or passed out, I am probably fine.”  


“I like how you threw in that “probably”” Suna poked fun at you, but you just shrugged. Kita shooed the team back to the court and brought you to the club room. The previous manager left a beaten up overstuffed binder full of partially completed stats, crumpled and stained papers, and some faded receipts that didn't seem at all related to managing a volleyball team. Yikes.


	2. First Day

The spine of the binder fell apart the moment it hit your counter. The handwriting on the sheets that spilled onto the counter was incredibly neat, but the organization was incredibly not. A headache started to form with just the thought of having to sort through all of that.  
As much as you wanted to dive head first into the task in front of you, you knew better than to go from school work all day to more work right when you got home. It was time for a warm shower and a hot cup of tea and then you could dig into your new role as volleyball team manager.  
A warm hand on your shoulder startled you, your head jerking up. Your dad was trying to hold back his laughter. A piece of paper came into your view, slowly peeling itself away from your forehead.

“I don’t know if you know this, but the counter isn’t the best place to sleep.” A quiet grumble left your lips as you moved the trackpad on your laptop to wake it up. 2:53. You had fallen asleep organizing. “Go to bed. You can work on this tomorrow.”

The coffee warmed the skin of your hand through your glove, but its warmth was also exacerbating your fatigue. The sky was painted pretty shades of red and orange from the sun breaking the horizon; it was your favorite time of day. Before, you would sit at the island in the kitchen and watch the sunrise out the window, but now you got to watch it as you walked to the school. The cold had started to make you second guess your choice to join the volleyball team, but this view changed your mind. This was the perfect way to start the day.

Practice had already begun by the time you got to the gym, dressed in the appropriate tracksuit; this was your first official day as manager and you needed to look the part. Kita was the first one to notice you when you walked in, waving you over to him.

“You look tired.” You knew, but it still took you by surprise to hear someone say that.

“Yeah...I stayed up late going through that binder your old manager left.”

“I appreciate the enthusiasm, but sleep is important.” You gave him a little pout, not expecting to be scolded this early in the morning.

“I know, I know. I just...got...focused, I guess. Loss track of time.” You took a slip of your coffee, looking over at the court. It doesn’t look like you have to worry about a serve hitting you right now, but there was still some distrust in Atsumu’s ability to aim.

The almost rhythmic sound of volleyball against skin and wood was hypnotising. You felt yourself swaying on your feet, fatigue threatening to take over. The contrast in temperature of the coffee against the coolness in the gym was not helping either. There was about an hour left of practice.

The only thing that kept you awake at practice was moving around. You tried to gather up any balls that got away from the boys, but they always beat you to it, not used to having a manager, or anyone else, who could recover them. You weren’t even sure if the boys realized you were there, not until the end of practice.  
Atsumu was the first one to notice, approaching you a little too enthusiastically.

“Hey! Yer back!” He had his arms open wide, almost like he was presenting something. Before you could stop it, a snarky remark left your mouth.

“It’s part of my job as manager to be at your practices.” The words were cold coming out of your mouth, but you could feel your cheeks pulled up in a smirk.

“You’ve decided to stay?” Aran spoke up. You were kind of in the middle of the huddle the team formed to get their water bottles, making you realize just how tall they all were. Or how short you were. Either way, it made you straighten your back, but you weren’t sure if it was because you wanted to appear taller to them, or because being surrounded by human trees was very intimidating and your immediate response was to act like you weren’t scared of them.

“Yeah, I guess the shorter twin’s attempt to injury me wasn’t enough to scare me away.” Atsumu choked on his water and his brother snickered.

“WHAT?! I AM NOT SHORTER THAN HIM!” He threw an accusing finger at Osamu, who only puffed out his chest, proud that someone noticed. He was going to hold this over Atsumu’s head for a while. It was impossible to keep the smile off your face at this and, it seemed, it was also impossible for the rest of the team to as well.

“Ya know…” Osamu started, “Our previous manager always made us lunch.”

“Oh yeah, every day,” Hitoshi added almost immediately. “Said something about it being part of her duties as our manager to make sure we were well fed.” There was a twinge of panic in your chest — you were not the best cook and there were so many of them — but you saw the way those two looked at you when they spoke. Kita was about to speak up, but you beat him to it.

“Really? Well...I guess…” you spoke with so much sugar on your tongue it almost gave you a cavity. “ **It really sucks that I’m not your old manager.** ”


	3. Censor

It had only been a few weeks since you started managing for the boys, but it felt like you had known them for a lot longer. You could pick up on subtle ticks, knowing when to pull a player off the court and force them to sit out for a few minutes to gather their thoughts, even before they do. 

It was just practice, but Atsumu was taking everything a little too seriously. The new formation was throwing everyone off; their bodies were fighting against muscle memory. You looked up from the notes you were taking, documenting the results of the plays, and noticed the blond twin subconsciously picking at his thumb with the nail of his pointer finger. 

“Atsumu.” His attention turned towards you. “Can you come over here please?” He jogged over to you, a strange mix of sweat and floral detergent surrounding him. “Can you do me a favor?” 

“Can it wait? I ne-” 

“Please?” You looked up at him with the biggest puppy dog eyes you could manage; he sighed in defeat. “Great!” You smiled, “Please sit.” He took the water bottle you were holding out as he took up a spot on the bench, “Drink some water.” Your tone shifted from soft to commanding, “and **calm down**. You aren’t thinking clearly out there.” He went to protest. “ **No**. You are going to sit here.” He grumbled, bringing the water bottle to his lips. “ **You aren’t the only one on this team.**

” You made note of the player Kita pulled to play setter in the spot Atsumu left. 

“I’m the only one who’s doin' his job,” he mumbled. 

“Don’t be a dumbass.” He looked at you, surprised. “You are struggling out there as much as anyone else. Change is hard and that’s what practice is for.” You glanced down at him, eyes softening. “You won’t always get things on the first try. And getting angry will not help you,” You turned back to the court, “or the team.” Atsumu leaned his elbows on his knees as he sighed, head in his hands. “Take another minute for yourself, clear your head, and then you can get back out there.” 

Atsumu played better after his time out, easing the adjustments to the changes. Spikes are easier to hit when your setter is on his game. This is the kind of turn-around you were hoping for. 

You exchanged what information you gathered during the run through with Kita and the coach at the end of practice. Some players worked better with others and some plays were not the best regardless of the chemistry on the court.

“What did she say to ya ‘Tsumu?” Osamu asked, sitting on the ground, water bottle in hand. 

“Yeah, what did she say? You seem like a completely different person out there.” Aran had noticed Atsumu’s change in demeanor even before he got back on the court. “It’s not like you to be the calm one.” Atsumu’s face flushed with anger, causing a loud laughter. 

“I called him a dumbass, if that’s what you’re asking about.” The redness on Atsumu’s face turned into embarrassment and the laughter got louder. “It’s what he needed to hear at the time.” You placed the binder on the bench, shuffling the papers inside around. “And you really shouldn’t be laughing. His playing got better, didn’t it?" You kind of felt like a teacher, the way their eyes were on you. "If it helps you play better, I will also call you a dumbass. He ain’t special and y’all aren’t safe.” You closed the binder and brought it over to your bag, exchanging it for some half-done homework. You knew the twins would likely practice for a while after practice was officially over and Kita had been staying late with them to supervise them. Today you were going to take his place and let him go home on time. 

It took some convincing, but Kita eventually did cave and let you stay after so he could go home. The twins didn’t notice the change, too lost in their own world, but Suna, who was also staying after, had. He wasn’t going to say anything, waiting to see if the twins would censor themselves like they usually do when you’re around. 

You planned on finishing homework while you waited, but the things coming out of the twins’ mouths were distracting. Your chemistry was forgotten on your lap as you listened to their... _ discussion _ . It was kind of entertaining.

“I didn’t realize you had such an...extensive vocabulary,” you called after Osamu exchanged a rather long string of words with Atsumu when the former got blocked by Suna. Suna almost cackles at the look on the twins’ faces as they turn to face you. “Aw, don’t tell me you’ve been censoring yourself for lil’ ol’ me.” 


	4. Warning

The twins were too embarrassed to continue practicing when they discovered you had been watching them instead of Kita, but they weren’t going to admit that. 

_ It’s getting late _ . A phrase repeated in mumbles by the twins as they rushed to clean up the gym. Suna walked up to stand next to you, watching them scramble around. 

“You should be helping them.” 

“Nah. They got this.” He smirked at you when you glared at him, “You’re the only one who’s been able to reign in the twins like this. Whatever you said to Piss-Head over there saved us from one of his blow ups.” 

”They’re not that difficult to deal with.” He snorted. 

“Yeah yeah, whatever you say, y/n.” 

“Go help them. ‘ _ It’s getting late, _ ’ and I’d like to go home.” Suna still had a smirk on his face as he grabbed a dry mop and swept the floor. 

There was always a little bit of fear that filled you at the thought of walking alone in the dark, but the brightness of the moon helped ease some of those fears. It was now a matter of dealing with how different things look at night. 

You were struggling a little with zipping up your coat, your gloves reducing your fingers’ dexterity. Your attention was taken away just enough to not notice where you were going, but you did stop short of crashing into Osamu’s back. 

“Go home. You need your rest. There’s a game coming up.” You continued on your way, walking past them. With your zipper all the way up, you stuffed your hands in your jacket pockets, and buried your face in your scarf. There was supposed to be a storm in the early morning, but the drop in the temperature threatening it might come sooner than predicted. 

You could hear the crunching of the ground under your shoes, but there was almost an echo of the sound coming from behind you. Casting a glance back, you saw the twins walking behind you. 

“Do you live down this way?” It was hard to see their expressions in the dark, clouds beginning to hide the moon. 

“No.” You stopped and turned around to look at them. 

“Are you walking me home?” You couldn’t stop a small smirk from forming. “As much as I appreciate it, you two need to get home. I’ll be okay. I’ve walked home alone before. And I’m gonna do it again.” Atsumu approached you and turned you around, throwing an arm around your shoulder and starting to walk forward again. 

“We wanna make sure yer gettin’ home safe.” Snow flurries began the fall around them.

“I’ll have you know that I am on very good terms with Hibagon. I have nothing to fear.” You felt him tense next to you. 

“The...what?”

“Don’t worry about it.” The night was getting darker, the moon struggled to reach past the clouds. “Please go home. I’ll be fine. I don’t want you getting stuck in the storm.”

“The storm isn’t gonna hit until 2am.” Osamu sounded so sure in his answer, but you knew with the change in the wind and the clouds in the sky, the weather person was wrong.

“Awww, are ya worried about us?” Atsumu teased you. 

“Not as worried as you two are about me.” 

“That’s ‘cause yer small and it’s dark out.” 

“I’m not even that small!” The twins shared a laugh. “Just because you saw me climb on one counter to get something, doesn’t mean that I’m small…”

“Just one?” You heard a snicker from behind you. Realization hit you. You only knew they saw you that one time because they  _ let _ you know they were there. How many times did they catch you climbing on things? Were the twins the only ones or do they all know? 

You picked up your pace, wanting to get home sooner so the boys could get home before the storm hits, but Atsumu misunderstood it as you being insecure about your height. 

“Ya know, ya can always ask one of us to reach stuff for ya.” He jogged a little to catch up, his brother not far behind him. The snow flurries had turned into a steady fall of large flakes.

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll keep that in mind.” Just one left turn and a block left and you’ll be home. 

“Ya don’t live that far from the school.” You stopped in front of your garden gate, only the porch light on. 

“I know, and that’s why I didn’t want you two walking me home.” A sharp wind muffled your words, blowing snow around the three of you. “I never trust weatherpeople when it comes to storms.” The stop sign at the end of the street was not visible through the drifting snow. You sighed and looked up at the twins. “I am not letting you walk home in this.” 


	5. Fired

“You’re both idiots." They each held a cup of tea in their hands. You had changed out of your uniform shortly after you got home, tired of its regulation skirt and button up blouse. The skirt you could have dealt with — it was actually pretty comfortable and you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t worn it outside of school before — but the blouse was uncomfortable. It either was the perfect length, but too tight at the top, or it was too long and fit okay at the top. The boys, on the other hand, didn’t plan to not be at home right now. They were stuck in their uniforms, unless they wanted to wear their practice clothes again, which you were praying against. 

“Where’s yer parents?” You often preferred the quieter brother: Atsumu asked too many questions. 

“Dad’s out of town.” Even though you weren’t looking at him, you could just feel the smirk on his face. “Don’t be gross.” They needed to be fed, but you were not about to subject them to your cooking. 

“What about yer mom?” There were two ways to answer that. 

“I don’t know.” You opened the fridge to see what you could offer. The only thing you had were some leftovers from two nights ago. As you slid the two containers of food across the counter, you continued, “I haven’t really talked to her recently. There isn’t any cell service in the afterlife.” The twins had never heard silence so loud. You turned to grab them chopsticks when you registered a soft thump behind you followed by a quiet grunt. “You can heat it up if you want. I usually eat it cold.” 

“Sorry to hear about yer mom, y/n,” Osamu offered, but you waved him off and left the kitchen. Osamu glared at his brother. 

“How was I s‘posed to know?!” 

You don’t believe you have ever heard the twins be so quiet before. You didn’t believe that was possible, but here they were, quiet like church mice, only the delicate sound of eating filling the kitchen. It was actually kind of adorable, seeing them like that, but you couldn’t stand in the doorway watching them forever. 

“Oi, you can borrow these,” you placed some clothes on the couch. “You need something to sleep in.” Why did your face feel warm? “I’m sorry if they’re big on you; they’re my dad’s.” 

The boys found you sitting on the couch when they returned from changing, socked feet gently resting on the edge of the coffee table, the old binder resting in your lap, with the TV on. Progress was slow but it was steady and you found it easier to focus on getting through the chaos with some mindless noise in the background. You hadn’t noticed that you were now seated between the two boys, focused on the faded notebook paper in front of you. The only things you could consistently make out were hearts, everywhere, big and small, and the same small initials, over and over again. There were some whose presence was only a ghost. It was too late at night to try to decipher it right now so you placed it in the front of the binder and moved on to the next section, flipping the beat up divider over. 

The boys jumped when you had, coffee table now at an angle, binder landing haphazardly on the floor, and a look of disgust written on your face. 

“What in the hell did your old manager even do?” They did not know what you meant. “The bullshit I find in this binder constantly astounds me.” You picked up the binder and walked it over to the trash, shaking it over it and hoping whatever it was you just found were just raisins. Some old cheeto dust came out of the binder as you shook it over the trash can. “Nope. Nope nope nope. That’s enough for today.” You tossed the binder on the counter and went to the bathroom to wash up. 

“What did our old manager do?” Atsumu looked at his brother. “I don’t remember her much.” 

“Me either. What did she find in there?” Osamu hadn’t finished his question before he got up and started looking through the binder, Atsumu not far behind. 

“Why did she quit anyway?” 

“She didn’t. Kita fired her.” They paused to look at the piece of paper you had been looking at a moment earlier. 

“If you want to organize that for me, I’m not going to stop you,” they wiped around looking like they had been caught with their hands in the cookie jar, “but it is part of my job.” You pointed with your head down the hall. “Come on, let me show you where you can sleep.” 

You showed them to the room at the end of the hall. The wall of curtain lights painted the room in a gentle blue light. 

“Is this...yer room?” A red flush found its way on Osamu’s face when he asked that question and, upon hearing that, Atsumu’s face became red too. This made you laugh. 

“Yes. It’s cleaner than my dad’s. And the bed is bigger so you two won’t be on top of each other when you sleep. Unless you want to fight over who sleeps on the couch and who sleeps on the floor in the living room.” The brothers look at each other, but your sigh stopped them from saying anything. “It’s a bed, not a kidney. It’s not a big deal.”


	6. Late

In the morning, Osamu wandered into the kitchen, in a sleepy trance. He didn’t fully register what he was doing until he was standing under the bright kitchen light staring at your back, watching you quietly sing and dance to music coming from your phone. You didn’t realize he was there, until you had turned around to grab something out of the fridge. 

“I didn’t wake you, did I?” He gave a silent shake of his head, rubbing sleep from his eyes. You watched him take a seat at the counter as you slowly closed the fridge door. He propped his cheek on his hand, closing his eyes, seeming to fall back asleep. 

He startled awake when he heard the chair next to him slide on the linoleum. Atsumu looked even more tired than his brother as he sat there, fully slumping onto the granite countertop. 

“I did  **not** just wake you up for you to fall back to sleep.” All you got was a sleepy grumble in response. You loudly placed two plates on the counter, startling him. You didn’t look up at them as you slid the plates across to them, barely even getting the plates to them before you turned around to grab the two mugs you prepared. “I have sugar and cream if you need it.” 

You had propped yourself to sit on the counter next to the sink, drinking your own tea to watch the morning light struggle to make its way through the clouds. You thought it was going to be another silent meal, which was ideal. Quiet mornings were your favorite. 

“Why don’t ya wanna make lunches for the team?” Atsumu said, pieces of food flying out of his mouth. 

“Please don’t talk with your mouth full. It’s rude. And wasteful.” You took a sip of tea and looked back at the horizon. “It’s a lot of work and I’ve already got my hands full with the rest of your shit,” you chuckled. “I’m also bad at cooking.”

“But this is really good!”

“Breakfast is the only thing I am good at because I do it every morning.”

“Ya can always practice on me,” Osamu looked hopeful. This boy had three brain cells, one for volleyball and two for food. 

“Yeah?” You laughed, putting your now empty mug in the sink and sliding off the counter. “I’ll consider it,” you looked at him now, “but just for you,” you joked. Atsumu looked offended, which made you laugh a little louder. You didn’t have any intention of actually cooking for them; this morning was a one time only thing.

The sidewalks had not been cleared, forcing the three of you to walk in the street. There was still a sharp wind that cut through you, your sweater tights doing little to protect you from it. 

Without the confines of the sidewalk, no one got forced to walk behind the others, providing you with a clear view of the twins and how they bury their faces in the collars of their jackets, almost in sync with each other. Adorable. You also caught Osamu’s brow furrowing.

“Did...did ya wash my uniform?”

“Both of yours, yeah. And your practice clothes. I hope that’s okay because I can’t unwash them.” Atsumu takes a deep breath from the inside of his jacket.

“Why does it smell so good?” 

“I use this fun thing called laundry detergent.” You could have not had a snarky response, but it was too much fun, “Have you heard of it?” 

“‘Course I have!” It was hard to tell if Atsumu’s face was red from the accusation or from the cold, but either way, it made you laugh. 

The rest of the short walk was filled with quiet grumbles from Atsumu and Osamu picking on him. You had thought your skin had kind of grown numb, until you stepped inside the school and felt needles in your skin. They were somehow both cold and hot at the same time. 

Even with thick socks and snow boots, your feet were still cold and having to remove them sent a shiver down your spine. After you slipped on your shoes, you continued to sit on the floor, huddled in your jacket, wanting just a few more moments in its warmth. The instant regret you felt when you removed it did not go unnoticed and Atsumu was quick to pick on you.

“Aw, are you cold? Was the snow too much for you?” He had a smug look on his face when you glared at him. 

“You walk outside in this weather in a skirt.” Tugging your cardigan closer to your body, you shut your locker. “I have a few extra if you want. I’m sure you’d look cute.” He didn’t have a response for you, but he yelled at his Osamu when he laughed at him. “We’re going to be late to practice if we don’t hurry.”

You were cutting it close. You had never been less than 10 minutes early and right now you were there with less than a minute before the start of practice. The twins were late. And they were scolded for it. Atsumu glared at you when he heard you stifle a laugh, but Osamu only looked bored. He knew you were going to blame them for making all three of them late, you were right, but he didn’t want to hear it.

Your practice uniform was much warmer than your school uniform and you hoped that it warmed you up enough that you’d be fine for the rest of the day in your school uniform. You left your hopes at the door when you made it to your classroom.


	7. Frigid

Your attention was split between the lecture, the whistling of the wind, and how cold you felt sitting at your desk next to the window. It probably wouldn’t have been as bad if not for your hands. They were always cold, but they were glacial today. You wanted, so badly, to sit on your hands, but you needed to take notes. Or attempt to. Moving the pen in your hand was hard when your fingers were stiff.

During your first break, you tried to warm them up under hot water in the restroom, but no matter how much you tried, the cheap brown towels couldn’t dry them completely, leaving a thin layer of water to freeze on your skin. Putting them in your armpits only made you flinch away from the contrasting temperatures and sitting on them was too much pressure on your sensitive skin. There was no winning. 

You were pretty used to having cold hands, and being somewhat cold, but the chill from this morning’s walk never left. You regretted not making a hot lunch today. And you regretted not making tea or stopping to get coffee. February weather was always unpredictable, but big storms like last night were usually reserved for once every few generations.

There were too many people left in the classroom during lunch for you to temporarily move desks to eat, but the little bit of movement you were able to do when you pulled out your food offered some relief. 

“Y/n!” Your attention was shifted to a voice at the door. Atsumu was walking towards you, Osamu not far behind. “Ya didn’t, by chance, bring any extra food, did ya?” They pulled up two chairs to sit next to you, Atsumu propping his head on his elbow and giving you his best attempt at puppy dog eyes. You stared at him, unblinkingly, as you slowly popped another piece of your lunch in your mouth. 

“Are the two of you regretting being idiots and walking through a snowstorm?” He tried to hide it, but Osamu had some begging in his eyes too. They were both hungry and they were hoping you’d take mercy on them. “Did you not think about the consequences?” You tried to bite back a smirk. 

“...Please?” Osamu’s lament of a request almost broke your heart. 

“Sorry, I didn’t pack any extra in my lunch today. I don’t usually have to feed _two_ _dumb boys_.” The look they gave you was so pitiful. “I mean, I _could_ give you _part_ of my lunch, but what’s in it for me?” You popped another piece of food in your mouth, resting your other forearm on the desk. You watched the gears turn in their heads. If they thought any harder, they’d given themselves an ulcer. You placed a hand on each of theirs, “Unless that thing is-” 

“WHY ARE YOU SO COLD?” Atsumu held his hand to his chest like you had burned him, but Osamu’s hand rotated under yours, his warm fingers laying gently against yours.

“My heart’s frozen.” You shrugged. “Body’s gotta pull heat from somewhere.” You were too busy with Atsumu to notice what Osamu was doing, until a warmth surrounded you. You caught Osamu sitting down out of the corner of your eye before looking at the tan blazer around your shoulders. You looked at the grey haired boy, bewildered, words failing you. Atsumu didn’t know what to say either. 

“No.” He rested a hand on your shoulder when you tried to take his blazer off.

“You’re going to be cold.”

“Not as cold as you are.” You paused, pouting as you registered his words. Drawing in a slow breath, you give him a look and slip your arms into the sleeves. You could smell your laundry detergent clinging to the fabric, but it was mixed with a different, more subtle smell, one you wanted to breathe in a little deeper.

“Anyway…” You looked back at Atsumu, pulling his attention away from his brother. “Do you regret not making better decisions?” His face fell, his stomach releasing a growl. He pouted and nodded at you. “Good,” you said, turning to put your empty bento in your bag. Osamu thought it was cute how long his sleeves were on you, a small smile tugged at his lips when he saw you struggling to keep them up. “Now,” you put two bentos on your desk, one in front of each of the twins, “if you mention this to the rest of the team,” they did not wait to start stuffing their faces, “I will not hesitate to show everyone the photo you accidentally sent me the other night, Atsumu.”

“YOU WOULDN’T!” You pulled your phone out from your bag.

“Try me.” 

“What photo?” When you looked over at Osamu, thumb sliding on the screen to unlock it, you had to bite back a smile when you saw the rice sticking to the side of his face. Even though Atsumu had nearly hit you in the face with a ball, Osamu was the one who caught your eye, and seeing him with rice stuck to his cheek made your chest feel fuzzy. 

“DON’T!” Atsumu’s voice cut right through your thoughts, hand grabbing your phone, taking your attention from his brother. 

“I guess you’ll just have to stay quiet then. I am not going to make the rest of the team lunches. And I will not make the two of you lunches again.”

“But, what’re ya gonna hold over ‘Samu’s head?” Atsumu was not about to be the only one on the line. 

“I mean, you’re twins, so I could say the photo is from either of you.” 

“Then share it.” You let out a chuckle in surprise, a smile finding its way onto your face. 

“Okay, okay, fine, what about…” It was easier to convince him than his brother. “Baked goods, Monday morning. I have a charity event Sunday and I know they will have bakery donations.” His eyes sparkled. “But only if you keep quiet. Both of you.”


	8. An Updated Promise

At the end of practice, you informed the team about the three practice matches you had set up in two weeks. One of them would be hosted here and the other two hosted at the other schools. 

“I know that midterms are a few weeks away, but these matches are a privilege given to us from the school.” Coach held their attention, “They are going to be taking place after morning classes so if your grades are not where they need to be, you will stay here, attending the classes you would otherwise miss.” A groan ripped through the team. 

“Don’t think you can try to get away with bad grades either. I will be checking.” You had kind of taken on the role of the older sister of the team. “However, if you need help, I’d be okay with hosting a study group at my house. It’s not very big, but it’s a space.” 

“Will there be food?”

“I can order delivery.”   
“Ya don’t wanna cook for us?” Atsumu snickered, “From what ya’ve-”

“Everyone except Atsumu is invited to come over for take out and studying.” You didn’t look at him. Osamu hit him, glaring out of the corner of his eye. He either completely forgot the conversation you two had at lunch or really wanted to see if your bite was as big as your bark. “I’m not joking when I say I will check your grades and if they aren’t where they need to be or better, you won’t even sit on the bench at the games.” 

The boys were dismissed to clean the gym and go home. You approached Atsumu, catching his attention with a hand on his arm. When he saw you, a huge smirk broke out on his face. 

“Oh hey, y/n,” you stopped him from saying anything else. 

“Did you forget the conversation we had earlier?”

“No, but,” you cut him off again.    
“I am going to amend the promise I made: I won’t show it to everyone. I will send it directly to your mom.” His face paled, a cold sweat mixing with the sweat from practice, “And I don’t think Osamu would hesitate in giving me her cell phone number.” 

“I heard my name.” You glanced over at Osamu, just to acknowledge he was there, before returning to the problem child in front of you.

“I have a brother. I know how to deal with your shit. And,” you looked at Osamu, “if one of you slips up, you both are in trouble.” 

“Why are ya so against c-” Osamu couldn’t understand why you were so against it when it was one of his favorite things to do.

“DON’T WOrry about it.” You stopped yourself from shouting at them, the heat from your face causing you to turn away and fast walk toward the locker room to change. That was not a conversation you wanted to have. Not now and not here. 

Suna called to you when you stepped out of the locker room. He was leaning against the wall, hands stuffed in his pockets. 

“Wanna share whose blazer you were wearing?” You zipped your jacket up before casting your gaze over to him. 

“What?” You felt warm remembering the kind gesture you experienced at lunch, but you forced a smirk, “Are you jealous?” Suna met your smirk with his own. He pushed off the wall and approached you. 

“It’s not very professional to date your teammates,” he teased, ruffling your hair as he towered over you. You swat at his hand and step back, out of his ruffling range.

“What are you talking about?” 

“So who confessed first? You or Osamu?” He laughed as your brow furrowed in confusion. “Oh don’t tell me: neither of you have confessed?” His laughter faded when the confusion on your face grew. “Are you really that dense? I expect as much from Osamu, but not from you, Miss Class 5.” You weren’t expecting to hear what he said next:

**“He likes you.”**


	9. Migraine

Suna’s words played over and over in your head for days. What could you do with this information? What SHOULD you do with this information? A better question might be: can you trust what Suna said? 

Suna routinely capitalized on any drama that would arise. He would even provide the kindling to start that fire if he felt inclined, including putting the thought in your head that Osamu had feelings for you. It was in your best interest to assume what he told you was not true. However, there was a part of you that  _ hoped _ . Even though you knew you shouldn’t.

You remembered the times your brother had his friends over at your house, but the memory of just how  _ loud _ boys could be failed you. Kita had previous obligations so you were in charge of this skulk alone.

Once you separated them into small study groups, the noise went down. It was even quieter when the twins were separated and placed on different sides of the living room. You always bothered your brother whenever you could and he did the same to you. It was no surprise they were being a pain in the ass. 

You floated between the groups, offering help where you could and receiving help where you needed it. Your phone kept going off, the chimes becoming increasingly more frequent since the start of the study group. You finally caved and turned on ‘do not disturb’, only glancing at the growing notification list.

How many times have you reread that sentence? Did you already make notes on this section? That word is spelt wrong. Wait, no. No, it’s not. Wait. Is it? The pain in your head was making you nauseous. It was time for a break. You gave your phone another glance, seeing the number of notifications had almost reached into the 40s. You didn’t have the mental capacity to deal with this right now.

You lay on the bathroom floor, lights off, head resting on the bath mat, sweatshirt pulled up halfway so your bare back was on the cold tiles, in hopes to release the tension that had been building in your head. It takes time for Tylenol to kick in, you knew this, but you wanted the relief now. 

A loud knock startled you, bringing you out of the trance you entered. There was still a dull ache, but the nausea had passed. Osamu watched you sit up and cross your legs, eyes squinting against the light, as he slowly opened the door. 

“Ya good?” He held out his hand to you, but you didn’t realize it was there until after you had pulled yourself up using the sink counter. “Ya’ve been in here for over 30 minutes.” 

“Probably time to order food then.” You were expecting him to move out of the way when you started towards the hallway, but he hadn’t. “‘Samu, I’m fine. It’s just a migraine.” He chuckled; you’ve never called him that before; your head must really hurt. 

“Oi, is y/n okay?” Atsumu shouted down the hall. His voice sounded extra loud right now. 

“I’m good. What do y’all want to eat?” The way your hand lingered on his forearm when you passed by him did not go unnoticed. The mention of food made the noise level return to what it was at the beginning. 

Aside from eliminating the need to cook, delivery also eliminated the need to clean dishes. The boys were fed, quiet, and clean up was just throwing things away. It was a win/win/win situation. 

The migraine had mostly passed, aside from the occasional twinge of pain from standing up too suddenly or Atsumu shouting something, usually after Osamu made a dig at his expense. You tried to continue to study, wanting to do well on the exam you had coming up on Tuesday, but words were still hard to read, much less understand. Maybe it was time to call it quits and give your head something less demanding to focus on. 

There were 5 missed calls, 55 unread text messages, and a voicemail when you checked your phone again. Another call came through when you opened your messaging app, but the person on the other side did not give you time to say hello before the yelling started. The others looked over, hearing the sound on the other side of the room. This call was going to be dealt with in the privacy of your room. 


End file.
